


A Lovers' Spat

by Iwassupposedtostudy



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: A lover's spat, Anne is pissed, Argus gets company, Eventual Fluff, F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Summaries, This is... meh at best., and Ann gets pissed, i honestly don't know how to tag this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:53:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwassupposedtostudy/pseuds/Iwassupposedtostudy
Summary: Here we go again! I couldn't sleep and so ended up writing a short story... I have long since abandoned any scruples about posting because - this is the only thing I do and this way - I can convince myself that I actually still accomplish things during this pandemic and that way not get too depressed. Anyway...Anne celebrates the finished pits with her men - unfortunately she is in for some trouble when she gets back home.^ I can't do summaries. Clearly.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter I

There was a lot of noise inside the pub this particular night following the ‘grand’ and much desired opening of the newly sunken pits on Shibden’s grounds. The men who had done the job were celebrating that months of work was finally at end and among them sat Anne Lister drinking primarily with Mr. Washington and Mr. Parker who had worked with her to realise the whole project. They were joyful the lot of them, drinking to their hearts content and maybe because of that jauntiness most also drank beyond what they normally would and could handle. Anne Lister emptied another stein of beer, putting it down with unnecessary force, but no one took notice of it – the noise from all the laughing and talking drowned it out. She smiled pleased as her beer stein was re-filled by one of the men, without so much as an eye bat, she rather liked it when they accepted her as one of them – as an equal.  
“This time tomorrow there will already be heaps of coal loosened from the pits.” Mr. Washington said looking intently at her, his eyes wide with pride – he had been part of this whole operation. Anne gave a nod, drying beer off her chin with the back of her hand,  
“Hopefully it will all run smoothly from now on. And soon, I might be running them at a profit too.”  
“No doubt! With that amount of coal, I wouldn’t be surprised if you tripled your profits.” Mr. Washington was thoroughly optimistic tonight, but then again, he had also had five or so beers, and Anne merely raised her stein towards him before drinking to that – to profit.  
To think she had almost lost it all due to the bloody pit sinking. If Ann hadn’t stepped in to help, Anne might’ve been ruined by it. Anne shuddered, drinking another mouthful almost as if to wash that wretched thought away – she was overjoyed that this whole business was finally at end and now up and running smoothly. She was celebrating just as much as her men.  
“Right.” Mr. Washington stood his stein down on the table making Anne startle but little having been lost in her own thoughts and beer for a minute. She raised an eyebrow and he smiled apologetic at her,  
“Must be on my way or I might be banished to the stables.”  
It was said only in fun, but Anne suspected there might be some truth in it. After all she wouldn’t have been thrilled if her… Anne’s thought trailed off as her face turned into a grimace and Mr. Washington paused for a moment, his coat only barely on,  
“Are you alright, Miss Lister? You look like you’re going to be sick, ma’am.”  
Anne’s eyes found his, and she shook her head decisively,  
“No, no. I just remembered something.”   
“I’ll be off then. Thank you for today, ma’am – Good night!” Mr. Washington gestured with his hand before leaving the table. Mr. Parker seemed to wake up from a brief slumber and he turned to Anne in a bit of a frenzy,  
“What time is it?”  
Anne hadn’t dared check her pocket-watch but now felt compelled to do so at Mr. Parker’s query. She picked it up, flicking it open and her stomach sank,  
“She’s twelve minutes past twelve.”  
“Oh, crikey! She will kill me...” Mr. Parker stood up hurriedly and Anne watched him almost drag the chair behind him as his coat stuck to it before managing to hurry outside. She was in trouble. She had promised to be home no later than half past ten. Ann would kill her. Anne stood reluctantly from her chair, wobbling the tiniest bit before regaining her balance – she wasn’t that drunk but clearly intoxicated enough to forget the time, or maybe she had just been having a good time. Anne glanced at the table and shook her head, no she was definitely a bit drunk. Albeit not a lot. The sound seemed suddenly loud and Anne scurried through the pub, avoiding crashing into the unsteady men on her way out. The cold night breeze felt nice on her flustered cheeks and Anne stopped to take a few deep breaths to clear her foggy mind before hastening up the road that would take her to Shibden. It wasn’t a long walk, but in the dark, it seemed much longer, and Anne was only lucky she had walked that path enough times to know her way in the dark. She used her time wisely, trying to come up with a good enough excuse to be almost two and a half hours later than she had promised to be.  
‘ _Someone knocked me down and I was out for hours.’_ Anne scrunched her face up miserably; they would never believe that. _‘Someone stole my pocket-watch and refused to give it back until just then’_ Anne’s muddled head hurt as she was trying to conjure an excuse up – clearly failing the task. Maybe she should just tell her the truth – she forgot about time because she was swept away in the joy and comfort, they all felt at a job well done. Anne wasn’t sure and she hoped that they had all just fallen asleep and forgot about her.  
  
Anne went through the gate but walked slower the closer she came to the door; her heart was hammering loudly in her chest and she hesitated when she reached out to open the door. But then lectured herself for being so silly – you are Anne Lister, and you are afraid of nothing.  
With that boost of confidence, she pressed the door open and ventured inside. The hallway lay in darkness and Anne almost gave a small cry of relief – her prayers might’ve been answered.  
Anne snuck up the stairs, well she thought she did – in fact she was quite loud but that’s the problem of being a bit in the cups. She thought she was as fly as a cat, making little to no noise and was confident her lateness was unnoticed by her wife. Anne lingered outside the bedroom for a second, wondering if it were wise to barge in there first? Maybe lie in the other room, pretending to have been there for a long time, that Ann hadn’t heard her come in – if she was even awake.  
“Anne, what are you doing?” Ann’s voice sounded behind her and Anne jumped straight into the door, hurting herself, as well as yelping loudly. Ann rolled her eyes at her but made no effort to come any nearer. She looked quite fearsome with her hair undone, hands on hips and an angry glare etched across her face.  
“Um…” Anne began, looking about herself to find an excuse,  
“You said you’d be no later than half past ten.” Ann’s stern look didn’t waver, and Anne tried smiling charmingly but it didn’t bite on Ann – not tonight.  
“I was home – I was in the barn.” Anne winched as the words came out of her mouth – that must’ve been the worst lie this century. Ann didn’t look impressed by it, considering her hardened stare, and the nostrils flaring,  
“Why are you lying to me?! I can tell you for one that it is only making things worse for you.”  
“I’m sorry?” Anne raised an eyebrow, looking uncertainly at her angry wife, whose chest was heaving up and down quickly from her fury.  
“Too late for that. You need to start thinking about others, Anne! This isn’t the first time. I was getting really worried about you – I was just downstairs about to send someone out looking for you – do you know why?”  
Anne tried to think, but the blasted alcohol dimmed her mind and she tried to smile to soften her wife but if possible that only made her angrier with her.  
“Anne for the… are you drunk?”  
“No?” Anne smile looked more like a grimace now and as she approached the blonde she stumbled on her feet and Ann groaned,  
“Oh Lordie! Anne! How much did you drink?!”  
“I didn’t have more than five!” Anne protested holding up four fingers and Ann’s eyebrows raised, and she stared at her until Anne’s eyes travelled to her fingers, groaning before holding up all five,  
“I’m not that drunk! I promise.”  
“Well we have all learnt that your promises don’t hold much truth in them, haven’t we?” Ann’s voice cut through her, if there was one thing Anne had often prided herself to be – it was honest and reliable – that comment hurt.   
“I…” Anne began but Ann held up a hand to stop her,  
“I was going to send someone out for you because you would have only worried and been cross if I went out myself, which you told me last time. The least you could’ve done in return for me, was to be on time.”   
“I’m sorry I…” Anne tried but Ann shook her head,  
“No, seriously Anne the world doesn’t revolve around you. For once could you care for someone else just for one moment.”  
Another blow to her chest, it wasn’t a great night to be Anne Lister as it were. Anne’s jaw clenched, and she stared at the wall, trying hard to keep tears away. She was clearly too drunk to succeed well with that and Ann sighed loudly,  
“Are you crying?”  
“No, uh, the ceiling eh the roof – it’s leaking, they’re leaking.”  
“Even if they were – it’s not raining.” Ann crossed her arms, and Anne met her stare briefly, feeling her own pulse quickening as she was slowly losing her temper,  
“Fine… it’s not. But I don’t see what the problem is. Yes, I’m late – but I’m here. I can hold my own and obviously I was going to be late – they were celebrating, I was celebrating – months of hard work!”   
Ann seemed taken aback for a second, just staring at the annoyed face of her wife with her arms open,  
“Sorry? Are you… are you mad? Of course, I know you were celebrating but hell, we were waiting up for you to come home so we all could drink to it. And you knew that!”  
“Well, I couldn’t just leave – I needed to be there with them. It’s been difficult work and I wanted to show my appreciation for the working men.” Anne spouted, spitting everywhere, her eyes narrowing – she was not in a good mood. Ann however took it on the chin, squaring herself up, eying her with contempt, hands falling to rest on her hips again,  
“Well then maybe I should’ve gone instead.”  
“What? Why?” Anne looked confused and bewildered by her comment and Ann smiled at her scornful,  
“Well, I paid for it, **_dear_**. If I hadn’t done that – you would’ve been doomed and you would’ve lost **_everything_**.”  
Anne’s whole body lost all its energy to fight as her shoulders slumped and her face became blanc – Ann was right.  
“Good. Now that we are agreed that you are an idiot and a drunk one too, I’d like to go to bed.”  
Anne’s eyebrows furrowed, she didn’t even comment on Ann calling her an idiot, she just looked about herself before turning back to her wife,  
“Bed?” Anne raised a puzzled brow and Ann rolled her eyes, pushing past her,  
“Yes. I’m tired, it’s late.”  
Anne was bewildered, was it all over just like that? This was possibly the weirdest argument she had had. But Anne wasn’t going to protest, she quite wanted to crawl into bed with her wife and give her a few _kisses_. Anne wandered after her into the bedroom and Ann turned around on her heel, glaring at her,  
“Where do you think you’re going?”  
“To bed?” Anne said offering her a charming smile, but Ann looked affronted, she huffed at her,  
“No! Get out.”  
Anne opened her mouth in realisation – nope this fight wasn’t over. She backed away, trying the door that led into Ann’s bedroom that they never used, and Ann watched her try in vain to open the locked door.  
“It’s locked.” Anne turned to her, frowning,  
“Well done.” Ann growled patronising,  
“Does it… is it open from outside?” Anne wondered, hand still on the doorknob and Ann shook her head,  
“No.”  
“But where shall I sleep?” Anne glanced at her wife and she sneered at her,  
“After half past ten, not my problem. I do think Argus would like some company though.”  
“Ann…” Anne tried, but the blonde refused to give in to her pleads, she pushed her out of the room locking the door in her face before she had any time to react. Anne just stared at the shut door – what on earth had just happened?  
“A bit late, are we?” Marian’s voice sounded from behind her and Anne turned to her, annoyed,  
“None of your business.”  
“Have fun sleeping on the sofa downstairs, or by the fire with Argus.” Marian mocked her and Anne scoffed at her,  
“I won’t, there are other bedrooms at Shibden.”  
“We locked them.” Marian threw over her shoulder and Anne were about to start quarrelling, but her sister shut the door to her room behind her and Anne was pretty certain she saw her Aunt peer thru her door before shutting it and locking it.  
“Fuck.” Anne mumbled to herself, how had her being late resulted in all this? With her pride wounded she dragged her heavy body downstairs, sighing dramatically as she made to lie on the sofa. It wasn’t comfortable. Anne scoffed to herself,  
“It’s a good thing I’m drunk or this would’ve really hurt.”  
Argus was however unaware that the household all despised Anne tonight for he went up to his mistress and began licking her face – happy that she was spending time with him.  
“This is a new low for me, Argus.” She mumbled before turning her cheek away as she lay on her side wrapping her arms around her for warmth meanwhile Argus still licked her neck. Maybe all would be well tomorrow…


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...

Waking up at six in the morning by a dog slabbering its tongue over your face a bit hungover was not great. Anne groaned and tried pushing Argus away from her, her eyes still shut though her face scrunched up as she fought the Irish wolfhound off her. If Mrs. Cordingley was surprised at finding her mistress on the sofa in the sitting room fighting Argus at six in the morning whilst she was working her way through the house - lighting the fires – she didn’t say a word. She merely tiptoed over the boards, trying her hardest not to be spotted, she had an inkling Miss Lister might not be overjoyed at being found thus. Anne did sit up however, growling as she finally managed to push Argus away from her, rubbing her eyes tiredly, dragging a hand through the mess that was her hair. Cordingley lit the fire, whilst glancing carefully at Miss Lister all the while – and as the fire crackled, she noticed her eyes turning her way. Anne stared at Mrs. Cordingley, not sure whether what she was feeling was embarrassment or something else.  
“Morning.” Anne croaked when Mrs. Cordingley hadn’t moved and the woman startled, bowing her head,  
“Morning, ma’am.”  
“Mm.” Anne mumbled, standing up to stretch her sore back before leaving the sitting room for her study. She passed a mirror and frowned; she was in dire need to freshen up but, she sighed tearing her eyes away from her reflection, she couldn’t get into her room.  
Anne pushed the door open to her study, grabbing her journal from her chest – opening it up, sitting down to write of yester-evening in it. She pulled the pins out of her hair, and she felt her headache immediately lessen, breathing a sigh of relief before she poured her heart and mind out on paper. The ink covered her fingers as she wrote rapidly across the page. Half-way across it she started to feel guilty about the whole fight yesternight. She was wrong to be that late and she knew how Ann tended to worry. Ann was right, she should’ve honoured the promise and gone home earlier to celebrate a bit with her as well, especially since she was the sole reason, they had managed to get them up and running. Anne would’ve been destitute without her. Possibly anyway. She pulled her hair back from her face, sitting up in her chair letting out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. How would she clear this mess up? Hopefully as elegant as she usually skipped between her scrapes. Anne leaned forwards to grab her ink blotter, running it over the page to dry the ink before storing her journal away. She flicked her pocket-watch open; she was nearing half past seven.  
  
Anne sat down alone at the breakfast table, reading the Huddersfield and Halifax express whilst drinking her tea and eating her toast – waiting for someone else to come join her at the table. Surprisingly Ann was down first, Anne glanced at her pocket-watch discreetly, raising an eyebrow – she wasn’t even eight. To show good faith Anne offered a smile,  
“Good morning.”  
Ann glared at her, last night not forgotten, sneering,  
“I’ve had better.”   
Anne cleared her throat, hiding her face behind the paper again, bringing the cup to her lips, thinking that it might be better if she held her tongue. It was the most awkward it had ever been between them and clearly Marian sensed this too as she appeared in the doorway.  
She scowled at Anne – blaming her for it all no doubt, and for once, she wasn’t wrong Anne thought to herself licking the tip of her finger to turn the page of the paper in her hand.  
“Did you sleep well?” Marian asked Ann and Anne glanced up from her paper, watching her wife carefully, as she smiled to Marian,  
“Yes, thank you. Did you?”  
Anne hummed to herself, looking down her paper again, the dark circles under Ann’s eyes exposed her lie. But at least she’d been comfortably in bed whilst Anne had slept scrunched up together on a much to small sofa.  
“I did.” Marian replied with one eye on her sister, Anne noticed the mockery in her eyes and voice and huffed quietly. Marian was being a busybody, annoying Anne.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, how did you sleep, Anne?” Marian turned to her sister and Anne’s muscles tensed and she forced a smile,  
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”  
“I would actually.” Marian pressed but their quarrel was cut short by Aunt Anne being helped to the table by Hemingway.  
“Did something happen?” Aunt Anne wondered glancing between the occupants of the table – you could cut glass with the tension.  
“Why don’t you ask, Anne.” Ann replied, her voice dripping of irritation, and Anne folded her paper, wrinkling the pages before throwing it on the table, standing up.  
“I’m off.”  
“Oh Lord, yes – God forbid that you’re late somewhere.” Ann muttered, and Anne turned her head thither, more wounded by the comment than she would ever let on. Marian and Aunt Anne watched them in suspense, both uncharacteristically quiet.  
“I said I was sorry!” Anne retorted and if someone looked closely, they might’ve noticed the distress in her eyes, before she swept out of the room to freshen up before her meeting with Mr. Washington by the pits – she wanted to see that it was all up and running and that nothing untoward had happened during the night like water being turned on them. Wouldn’t that just be her bloody luck.  
  
Eugénie did her job as well as always, and dressed impeccably and looking dapper Anne was ready to take on the day. She wouldn’t let her contretemps with Ann get in the way of it – she would deal with that later. Anne popped her head into the sitting room,  
“I’m off to meet with Mr. Washington and to sort some business out with Mr. Parker afterwards.”  
Ann gave her one look, and Anne felt a tug at her heart – she hated to be the reason that she was upset and angry. Her Aunt frowned as she looked between the two but at least she acknowledged her,  
“Very well, dear. Don’t be late.”  
“I won’t.” Anne offered her aunt a smile, and she heard Ann scoff from her corner of the sofa, noticing her hand gripping tighter around her pen, marking the paper harder.  
Marian fluttered her eyes upwards, and stood up, walking towards Anne pulling her at the arm with her out into the hallway.  
“Anne, seriously. Don’t be late…” Marian began, and Anne sighed tiredly,  
“I’m really not in the mood for one of your ‘sermons’.”  
“No, I’m not… I just don’t want – I cannot bear the awkwardness and if I need to sit through another… Ann cried a lot last night and I heard her and I cannot stand it.” Marian stuttered and Anne’s eyes widened as she looked more intently at her sister,  
“You heard her!?”  
“Mm?” Marian raised an eyebrow, and Anne’s cheeks flushed,  
“Oh, eh, some nights I have a lot of trouble breathing – I hype…”  
Marian’s face contorted, and she shook her head, holding her hand up, stopping her sister before she told her more than she needed to know,  
“I went to see if she was alright. I was in the room but I’m not good with people crying.”  
“Right. I’ll try and talk to her when I come back.” Anne promised her sister and Marian breathed a sigh of relief,  
“Good. Now don’t…”  
“Be late! I know!” Anne groaned before hurrying out the door about to busy herself, so she needn’t think of Ann lying awake crying all night because Anne had selfishly stayed at the pub without a second thought regarding the fact that her wife had waited up for her.  
  
It hadn’t been a productive day; Anne hadn’t been feeling great partly due to her hangover – she had been sick twice in the bushes, but it was mostly because she couldn’t concentrate when she knew Ann was still upset with her. Sometimes she still worried that she would come home only to find out she had gone - left in a fit of emotions and anxiety. Anne really didn’t give that woman enough credit for putting up with her. She risked everything to be with her – and Anne repaid her with being inconsiderate and unkind.  
“Ma’am?” Mr. Parker eyed her from across the desk, and Anne regained her focus but wasn’t sure to what question he was demanding an answer.  
“I’m sorry.” Anne mumbled, fidgeting with her coat, standing up quickly, managing to bump into the table, worrying Mr. Parker who weren’t used to see her discomposed.  
“Is something wrong, Miss Lister?”  
“Yes… eh, no. I just remembered I need to attend to something at Shibden.” Anne tried to give off the impression that she had everything under control and that she was fine but judging by the furrowed eyebrows and worried mien that overcame Mr. Parker she wasn’t successful.  
“What’s happened?”  
“I need to take care of my wi…” Anne paused, her heart beginning to race in her chest, as a horrified expression crept onto her face,  
“Your wi…?” Mr Parker looked at her expectantly and a bit intrigued and Anne nodded,  
“My wine.”  
“Wine?”  
“Yes. I’ve made my own. I had to, a friend of mine sent me baskets of grapes and we didn’t know what to do with them.” Anne tried to say it casually, even added a chuckle and it did the trick for Mr. Parker laughed with her,  
“I say, Miss Lister – a very fine idea. Let me know if it were any good.”  
“I will. Good day, Sir.” Anne gave a nod, placing her hat on her head before leaving him in a hurry. She peered at her watch as she walked in quick strides through Halifax, if she rushed, she might be home in time for dinner. She needed to make up with Ann – she couldn’t stand another night on the sofa nor away from her. 


	3. Chapter III

The door slammed shut behind Anne when she hurried inside Shibden, the noise summoning Marian from the sitting room as usual,  
“What’s the matter? Why are you slamming doors like that?”  
Anne gave her half-a-look, not wasting any precious time on answering her sister, trying to just walk past her but Marian was very much in the way,  
“Anne?!” She barked when her sister had said naught, and Anne glared at her annoyed,   
“Get out of my way, Marian!”  
“Did something go wrong? With the business I mean. There’s not trouble with the pits already?” Marian anxiously asked, and Anne bit her tongue down, closing her eyes, feeling her muscles tense up, rubbing her fingers against her forehead to still the pain– Marian truly had so little faith in her and her judgement and it was infuriating to say the least.  
“No! Everything’s fine.” Anne told her through gritted teeth and Marian raised an eyebrow,  
“Then what’s…”  
Anne lost her temper and patience, refusing to let her finish her sentence but pushed past Marian, accidently shoving her into the doorframe. Marian growled after her sister, but she didn’t mind her, she stormed into the sitting room only to look around it in a frenzy, surprising her aunt with her panicked behaviour.  
“What are you looking for Anne, dear? Did you lose your keys?”  
“Where’s Ann?” Anne crouched down and to have a peek under the sofa to which Marian who had entered the room raised an eyebrow and sneered,  
“Well she’s clearly not under the sofa. You know she might be small but…”  
“Do you know where she is?!” Anne stood up, accidently bumping into the sofa that moved a few inches, but Anne never minded it and Marian seemed intent on mentioning it, to tell her to restore the sofa, but she shook her head suddenly, deciding to let it be.  
“Yes. What she didn’t tell you?”  
Anne closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, counting to five in her head – killing Marian for taunting her would lead her nowhere and she needed to find her wife.  
“How am I supposed to know? - I haven’t been home all day, Marian.”  
Marian smirked, rather enjoying having her sister in the palm of her hand but Aunt Anne decided she’d rather not any blood be shed on the fairly new carpet and so raised her hand,  
“Ann’s gone to spend the day and have dinner with her cousins.”   
“Which cousins?” Anne furrowed her brows, and her Aunt held her forehead for a moment, deep in thought, before raising a finger,  
“Oh, yes – um, the Rawson cousins – Catherine?”  
“Did she?” Anne muttered, but more to herself than to her sister and Aunt.  
“She said she might stay there, for the night. She wasn’t certain.” Marian added and Anne’s eyes turned to meet hers, but she said naught, feeling as though all air and energy had left her. Ann had really gone. What if she weren’t to come back? Anne stared blankly in-front of her, completely swept away with her thoughts and emotions. What if they persuaded her to leave Shibden, to leave Anne… would she? Anne pulled a hand through her hair, making a mess of her do – not that it mattered. Nothing else mattered at the moment but the fact that Ann might’ve just left her, and worst of all – no one would ever understand – no one would know why that caused her such immense pain. It felt as though someone was tearing her insides apart, and as though she couldn’t breathe properly and she touched her wedding band almost absentmindedly on her finger - surely she wouldn't give up on their marriage because Anne had been late?   
“Anne, are you crying?” Marian’s concerned voice brought her back to the sitting room and a bit embarrassed she dried her eyes with the back of her hand quickly, snivelling,  
“No.”   
Maybe Marian realised this was not a time for teasing for she refrained from remarking on the fact that her cheeks were blotted red, and tears still leaking down them, pretending that Anne’s 'no' was convincing. However, Aunt Anne frowned, reaching out to take her niece’s hand gently, to bring her some comfort,  
“She’ll be back tonight or in the morning, Anne, I’m sure she will.”  
“Mm.” Anne mumbled, her shoulders slumped, releasing her aunt’s hand after giving it a squeeze,  
“I’m going up to my study to… write some letters, I’ve let my correspondence...”  
Anne let her sentence die out and sulked out of the room with so sad a face that even Marian felt great sympathy for her. How had she messed things up this badly? Anne couldn’t stop the sob that escaped her on the landing, and she quickly closed the door to her study to hide her tears from the rest of the household, trying but failing to bury herself under work and letters.   
  
When night did come, and Ann hadn’t returned home Anne began fretting anew. She didn’t know what she’d do if she’d left her. Her heart clenched and it felt as though breathing got more difficult. Anne leant against the wall, trying to calm herself, trying to breathe slowly, telling herself – _you’re being ridiculous_ , but the fact still remained that Ann hadn’t come home. For a weak moment Anne thought she might sneak out and head over to Crow Nest – just to see if it were still closed up or if she in fact had gone back never to return. But then she had decided against it, that was too desperate – what if someone saw her? And what more, Ann might need time to herself. She would wait, she would respect her apparent wish not to see her at present.  
When she turned half past eleven Anne decided she’d try and get some sleep because time would pass faster if she did, and it meant she needn’t think about Ann for a few hours. However, when she tried the door to her bedroom, she came to realise it must’ve been locked again at some point throughout the day. In a bout of frustration, she banged her head against the door, groaning loudly – why?  
With slow, heavy steps she dragged herself down the stairs - feeling worse than she had in a long time. No wife, no bed, no nothing and certainly no _kiss_ to boast of in the morning to her journal. She was in short miserable.  
  
“Hello Argus.” Anne muttered to the large grey hound on the floor as she entered the sitting room. It lay in almost complete darkness, save for the candle Anne held in her hand, as the fire had been extinguished a while since. Argus raised his head and wagged his tail and Anne patted him lamely, wallowing in self-pity as she sank down on the sofa, blowing out the candle.  
“Here we go again.” Anne sighed as she propped up the pillow to make it a little more comfortable, but no matter - it was still a sofa and not a bed – she had no blanket, no fire and the wood was not kind on her back. In conclusion, Anne thought, it wasn’t only mortifying to be on the sofa for a second night – it was bloody freezing too. Besides, Argus refused to come when she called him back to her, thinking he might be at least a little warm. Anne was glum and she clutched the pillow to her face trying to force her body asleep, so she’d be put out of this misery as soon as possible. May this be the first and last time throughout our marriage that I cry myself to sleep Anne thought biting into the pillow to muffle the sobs that shook her body. 


	4. Chapter IV

Ann had begun to regret being so hard on Anne about halfway through the evening with her cousins. Whereas Catherine were fond enough of Anne, it was more than clear that the rest of the family weren’t – they’d say all sort of things that upset Ann, and whilst she was still angry with Anne for not honouring her promise and then acting all aloof, she still loved her to death and wanted no one else to speak ill of her. At first Ann had planned to stay all night since Catherine had offered but after Mrs. Rawson had repeated various slurs when talking of ‘ _Gentleman Jack_ ’ Ann changed her mind. Why would she want to stay with people that had so little respect for her choices and most importantly – who would call her wife all those things?! Ann had excused herself a little while after eleven which surprised the party who had then spent an additional fifteen minutes trying to persuade her to stay. Ann suspected that they wanted to try and keep her there – away from Miss Lister and not just for the night considering all that they had said. But Ann wasn’t so easily turned, and if anything, their ill-words about her wife only made her more determined to go home.  
  
“Ann, hadn’t you rather stay? After all, it’s late and they’ve probably locked up.” Mrs. Rawson pressed one last time and Ann remained fairly composed outwards, considering her blood was boiling, why couldn’t they just let her decide for herself? Why must they always assume that she was inept at making her own decisions? It was rather infuriating and frustrating.  
“Thank you, but I should be on my way. They must be worried sick by now.” Ann replied as calm as she could, and Mrs. Rawson frowned,  
“Worried sick? Why, they haven’t even come looking for you? Or sent words for that matter.”  
Ann didn’t let it show how that comment affected her – it was a bit strange that Anne hadn’t come worrying- even if she had told Marian where she was headed. All though she suspected it might have to do with the way Ann had treated her yester-night. And in any case – Ann wanted home – she needed to make things right.  
“They know I’m here but if I don’t get back soon, they might start to worry. I’ve already told William to ready the carriage.” Ann told Mrs. Rawson firmly, indicating that she wouldn’t be persuaded to stay and finally she seemed to give up on her staying, but she still wanted to get a message across,  
“I don’t like it. We, all of us, disapprove. You, living there with… _that_ woman, Ann. She’s unnatural and can’t be trusted…”  
Ann bit her sentence off, her face beginning to flush red with anger,  
“You don’t have to like it, it’s my life and my decision. And just to be clear if you ever say an ill-word about Anne Lister to me again– I won’t be back; I won’t help out.”  
“Ann you don’t mean that… Would you really turn your back on your own family for _her_? She’s **_queer_**.” Mrs. Rawson howled upset and Ann raised an eyebrow, heart hammering angrily in her chest,  
“If that’s what it comes to.”  
Then Ann left Mrs. Rawson and the rest of the tribe standing stunned, leaving the room and the house, she was going back home to her wife and her chosen family.  
  
Ann were bit anxious that the house might indeed be locked up, meaning that she would have to wake people up to get in unless she broke into her own home – which to be fair might be an option as Ann loathed the idea of stirring people from their slumber all because she was late home. William helped her out of the carriage, and she glanced at the dark house carefully hoping – wishing that the door might still be unlocked. It wasn’t, but William helped her in through the back door instead to which he had been given a spare key for.  
It was uncanny to walk about the house when it was dark, and quiet – the old walls seemed so full of stories and Ann shuddered, hurrying into the house-body. She was about to climb the stairs when she stopped mid-move, as she was struck by remembrance of having locked the bedroom door – ‘oh-uh’ Anne might be livid. And presumably she must either be sleeping in one of the sitting rooms again or in her study – unless her aunt had taken pity on her and invited her to bed. Guilt welled up within her and she paused down by the stairs before turning her back to it, venturing through the house to have a look in the sitting rooms first. The floorboards creaked and squeaked loudly under her feet and she winched – afraid that she was waking the whole household up – and certain that they never did make so much sound during the day as they did now.   
  
Ann found her wife lying uncomfortably scrunched up on the sofa – shivering in her sleep from the cold. Her heart sank – this was her fault and she felt terrible. Anne hadn’t even a blanket to wrap about herself. Ann frowned; Anne had certainly suffered enough for her lateness the night before, and she didn’t want to keep fighting – she missed her wife and her kisses. It was such an unnecessary thing to fight. Ann crept through the room, and Argus raised his head from where he lay by the cold fireplace, without thinking, Ann raised her finger to her lips as if the dog would understand that and keep quiet – however – he did.  
Ann sank down on the sofa, inevitably touching her wife in the cramped space, and Anne stirred, turning her head up from the pillow that she had held pressed to her face,  
“Ann?”   
Ann smiled unsure, noticing a redness around Anne’s eyes and feeling worse than before, reached out to touch her cheek,  
“Hello.”  
“What time is it? When did you get back?” Anne rambled confused, and Ann raised her eyes to look at the clock on the mantel,  
“She’s seven minutes past one, I got back just now.”  
“I thought you were supposed to stay there. Marian said…” Anne trailed off, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and Ann stroke her over the cheek softly, clearly filled with anguish,  
“Yes, well I wanted home, I needed to… they said such awful things about you and I, I, realised… There’s no one as important to me as you, and I’d rather make up with you than remain angry for longer than necessary.”  
“I’m glad you came back.” Anne murmured huskily, glancing up at her, bringing her hand to her neck to pull her down for a kiss which Ann happily granted her, their tears mingling with each other.  
“I’m sorry for yesterday. Truly, I should’ve kept track of time, it’s the least I could’ve done for everything you’ve put up with for my sake.” Anne said sincerely and Ann responded by kissing her brow,  
“And that’s how an apology sounds.”  
“I’m getting rather proficient at making those, aren’t I?” Anne smirked, and Ann couldn’t help but laugh at her, resting her head against her shoulder.  
“Mm, next step is to not make such a mess as to need to apologise all the time.” Ann bit her lip not to laugh and Anne pushed at her gently, but her eyes were bright,  
“Shush, we both know that’s an impossible task. Trust me! My journals are just millions of words of apologies – and I never learn.”  
“And yet, I can’t stop loving you.” Ann sighed dramatically, grabbing her by the chin to pull her in for a rough kiss before standing up. Anne tugged at her arm,  
“Stay.”  
“Wouldn’t you rather us sleeping in bed?” Ann wondered an amused smile playing her lips and Anne’s eyes widened as she quickly scrambled up from the uncomfortable sofa.  
“Much rather.”  
“Besides you know a locked bedroom hides a multitude of sins and suggests a multitude of others.” Ann winked before leaving Anne standing, speechless, staring after her wife before a wide grin spread across her face as she leapt after Ann excitedly. It was time to make up, and maybe, Anne thought as she rushed after her wife, up the stairs, come morning, her journal entry might not be so depressing after all.  
  
**The End.**


End file.
